Vasulka scratched his head. “I don’t get this stuff.  The whole right wing of the country has locked into this.  Acolytica is just a small part.  Cade’s preaching it, Spengler’s enforcing it, and the President of the United States is completely on board with it.  Look at all of us in this room.  We get along, right?  McKean, you’re Jewish, Case, you’re Catholic.”

Combes twisted her head and wagged a finger toward Vasulka. “Non-practicing.”

Vasulka shrugged, “well, duh.  The only practicing Catholic I ever met was Father Frank at St. Andrew’s.  The Driscolls over there, I’m sure they’re something and Shaughnessy, well he’s a dog.”

Honor Driscoll raised her hand,  then shook it in the air like an eager fifth-grader. “Ooh, me, ooh, me.”

Vasulka pointed at her. “The floor recognizes Ms. Driscoll.”

“Shaughnessy’s a non-practicing dog.  He thinks he’s human.”

“Point well taken.  But, as I was saying–”

Combes stood, hands on hips and towered over Vasulka. “What are you, Vaz?”

“Me, I’m a musician.  Still the point is – it’s going on all over the world. Everyplace you look, they’re mixing religion into the government.  We had a first amendment.  We were supposed to be safe.  Now look at the way it works.  There is no more separation and it’s beginning to get nasty, and I think it’s all about the collection plate.  Imagine if Ford could get away with burning people at the stake for buying Chevys – the same damn thing.”